without a certain feeling of pride that she reflected that her beauty had led the famous and mighty Kaupeepee to abduct her.

After partaking of a hearty breakfast, she sent for him and he came promptly.  “What can I do for you ?” he asked.  “Liberate me!” was her answer.  “Return me to my children!” “Impossible!” was the firm reply.  “Then kill me,” she exclaimed.  The chief now told her how he had left home specially to see her, and found her the most beautiful woman in Hawaii.  He had risked his life to get her.  “You are my prisoner,” he said, “but not more than I am yours.  You shall leave Haupu only when its walls shall have been battered down and I lie dead among the ruins.”

Hina saw that resistance was useless.  He had soothed her with flattery; he was a great noble; he was gentle though brave.  “How strangely pleasant are his words and voice,” she said to herself.  “No one ever spoke so to me before.  I could have listened longer.”  After that she hearkened for his footsteps and soon accepted him as her lover and spouse.

For seventeen years she remained a willing prisoner.  In the meantime her two sons by her first husband had grown up; they ascertained where their mother was, demanded her release, and on refusal waged a terrible war which at last ended in the death of Kaupeepee and the destruction of his walls.

INTERCEPTED LOVE-LETTERS

The Rev. H.T.  Cheever prints in his book on the Sandwich Islands (226-28) a few amusing specimens of the love-letters exchanged between the native lads of the Lahainaluna Seminary and certain lasses of Lahaina.  The following ones were intercepted by the missionaries.  The first was penned by a girl: 

“Love to you, who speakest sweetly, whom I did kiss.  My warm affections go out to you with your love.  My mind is oppressed in consequence of not having seen you these times.  Much affection for thee dwelling there where the sun causeth the head to ache.  Pity for thee in returning to your house, destitute as you supposed.  I and she went to the place where we had sat in the meeting-house, and said she, Let us weep.  So we two wept for you, and we conversed about you.

“We went to bathe in the bread-fruit yard; the wind blew softly from Lahainaluna, and your image came down with it.  We wept for you.  Thou only art our food when we are hungry.  We are satisfied with your love.

     “It is better to conceal this; and lest dogs should
     prowl after it, and it should be found out, when you
     have read this letter, tear it up.”

The next letter is from one of the boys to a girl: